


From the Grave

by tardis



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DC Extended Universe, Justice League (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Domestic Violence, F/M, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Metahumans, Mythology References, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Temporary Character Death, it's such a slow burn you're gonna question is it's even hot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:24:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24460486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tardis/pseuds/tardis
Summary: This is the age of miracles, and there's nothing more horrifying than a miracle.OFC-centric, Soulmate AU
Relationships: Bruce Wayne/Original Character(s), Bruce Wayne/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 57





	1. Pet Semetary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part I: Metamorphosis

" _God, in His infinite wisdom, seemed much more generous when it came to doling out pain._ " — Stephen King, **Pet Sematary**

* * *

The most excruciating pain that Theodora Law had felt in her life was when her forearm was broken. Placed over a log, and stomped on in one quick movement. Her bone snapped like a twig. It was a blinding, crippling agony that consumed her down to a cellular level. She'd passed out, only to awaken hours later with her arm being put back together as if _He_ was doing her a favor. The pain was staggering.

This pain was much, _much_ worse.

It was an immeasurable scorching sensation moved from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, like she was dipped in napalm. It was like someone flicked a switch, she wasn't, and then she was, and it was pure, staggering agony to simply choke up on the wet earth pressing down on her, filling her throat.

Blindly, Theodora thrashed frantically like a fish out of water; her hands spasmed while the white-hot pain ebbed and flowed through her body. Her chest _hurt_ , ached with every movement she took to drag her body from under the loose earth. By the time she managed to pull herself out her shallow grave—it was more of a pit, or a ditch than anything—Theodora could feel the warm tears on her cheeks, how her bloodied nails were pulling against the nailbed from the effort.

Under the shining full moon, she must have made a vision: pale skin like milk, smattered in dried blood, mud, and undergrowth emerging from the earth like a monster in a horror movie. She barely had enough strength to stop herself from toppling over, face planting into the dirt.

 _I should be dead.  
_ _Dead?  
_ _**I died.  
**_ _I should be dead...right?_

Her thoughts raced, and her fingers clawed into the dirt as she tried to find something that could bring her back into the moment. Blood pounded in her ears. God, was there cotton in her ears? Her heart thudded in her chest, Theodora was sure it would explode out of her ribcage. Her hands spasmed in the dirt, the muscles contracting without reprieve. Her view of the world tilted as if she were looking through a refracting lens. It was too much. Theodora had to getaway. The bile was crawling up her throat, and her chest felt it was in a vice. The acidic taste coated the back of teeth, the only warning before she vomited into the dirt.

It wasn't vomit; it wasn't bile; Theodora knew those quickly. This substance was black, sticky like tar, tacky, and hot as she wiped her chin clean with a shaky hand.

This was not normal.

That realization just ratcheted the anxiety—the pure, unfiltered panic—up several notches. The skin on the back of Theodora's neck felt flush. Suddenly, she was hot and sweaty. The tremble that was effecting her left hand traveled to the rest of her limbs, making it almost impossible for Theodora to stand up. It took everything within her aching body to push herself up to sitting upright on her knees. Her heart was pounding even faster, even harder; she tried taking a deep breath to calm herself, but they were still sharp, shallow. Quickly her vision got darker and narrowed, looking like a kaleidoscope, like when you close your eyes, then press down on your eyelids to "see stars."

There were no stars, just a constant loop of her death.

 _No.  
_ _No?  
_ _No. **Murder**_ **.**

Theodora's mind supplied the word quickly, the thought slipping through like a knife. Smooth as silk. It cut through the white noise that seemed to be filling her ears. She'd been killed. Murdered. By _him_. She died. God, it was all coming back in bursts, images flashing like lighting and burning into her corneas. From her throat, a loud wail escaped, the so sound inhuman, and soul-wrenching that birds scattered from the treetops in terror.

Theodora dry heaved for a moment before vomiting again. This time around, the black, tar-like substance didn't even phase her. It couldn't; she needed to focus, she needed to be grounded. Focus on anything: the pain on her fingertips from her bleeding broken, and pulled nailbeds; the crusty blood that littered her chest and shirt; the phantom pain of hands around her neck, squeezing.

 _Focus.  
_ _Focus.  
_ _**Focus**_ _, **Theo**._

She needed to move. _He_ could come back. No, no, He should come back. He was always so meticulous. No loose ends. She needed to move. Then Theodora was pushing herself up out of the mud, staggering under the weight of it all—of her body, of what was happening, of _what happened_. Her feet dragged, catching on roots causing her to stumble her way through the underbrush.

Where she was and where she was going, Theodora had no idea.

**.**

**.**

**.**

She ended up a police station in some podunk town.

"My fiancé tried to kill me."

Under the fluorescent lights of the police precinct, the horror of Theodora's appearance was apparent. Sallow faced, stained back around the mouth and pasted with dirt, and her mouth set in a thin line, brow furrowed. The bruises on her neck were almost invisible to the naked eye. Nobody would know her hyoid bone had been fractured hours earlier. Her clothes were covered in the muck, thankfully covering up the blood on her dark shirt and leggings, only adding to the growing pile of evidence.

The police officer—Officer Park—sitting adjacent to Theodora nearly lost the grip on the pen as it hovered over a clipboard for the report.

"We, uh, we fought. I tried to leave, you know?" She couldn't look at the officer; instead, she chose to look at the far wall. She didn't need to see the judgmental, yet pitting look. "His hands were around my neck...he took me into the woods. I don't, uh, I don't remember much."

"What do you remember, Theodora?"

"Don't call me that," she snapped. Her fact configured into a snarl before she forced her muscles to relax. "Call me Theo; He insisted I be called Theodora."

For her credit, the officer was patient and calm as she made a note. "Of course. What do you remember, Theo?"

"I woke up—" she started, eyes darting from the wall to the police then back. "—and I was in a ditch, or a pit. Buried."

"We sent a car out, but there were no tire marks. Nothing—"

"—I pulled myself out of **_my own grave_** ," Theo insisted. How could the police not believe her?

"I'm not discounting you, Theo," Office Park explained steadily watching as an incredulous look rose to Theo's face. "There's a lot of tree removal in that specific area, a lot of moved dirt."

"Nobody saw anything." The officer gave a small shrug of her shoulders, continuing, "Did you happen to take any pictures? Were there any threatening text messages between you?"

The flushed hot feeling returned to Theo's neck, panic swelling in her chest. She thought she might vomit again.

"No! He has my phone!" Theo insisted. Her body turning towards the officer as the buzzing of the fluorescent lights grew louder. How could nobody understand? She didn't stop her voice from rising several octaves. "Isn't there any DNA where _he buried me alive_?!"

"Look, this isn't _Law and Order,_ this is Salinger County," Officer Park stated while dropping the clipboard, then asking for clarification: "You have no proof?"

Theo felt her eyes burn as she shook her head. Her hands clenched so tight what few nails she did have were cutting moons into the palm of her hands. She felt hysterical like she was going to burst into peals of laughter or tears at any moment.

_Is this how that dumb fucking clown feels?!_

Office Park, abandoning all pretense of creating a paper report at that point, moved her chair closer to Theo. Her hands were clasp before her—nonthreatening—as she leaned forward, her voice then dropping so nobody could overhear if around.

"Honey, let me level with you. I looked you up; you have a rap sheet," the officer began. Theo could barely contain the depressing laugh that bubbled in her throat. "Star City orphan, a string of petty crime, in and out of homes. You're a runner, even though you cleaned up your act and got some degrees. Have ever had any friends go through filing for an assault?"

 _Friends?  
_ _What are those?_

"This will be labeled Domestic Violence—"

"—This isn't—" Theo thought she would hit something, rip her hair out at the words. Her hands slammed down on the desk finally for an outlet. "— ** _He_** **_tried to murder me_** _."_

For Officer Park's credit, she didn't even flinch at the outburst, she was used to much worse.

"The best we can do is getting a restraining order, a temporary one for three months. After that, for a permeant one, you'll have to go before a judge and so will he—"

"—But it would be permeant?"

"Well," the officer began, "for three years. Then you file again as you have no pictures, no proof, and it can be challenged if there is no immediate threat of danger."

Theo seemed to deflate in the chair. "What am I supposed to do?"

There was a beat. A moment of silence that allowed Officer Park a chance to look around the near abandon back office of the precinct.

"He thinks you're dead, right?" She asked rhetorically. "If you want some really off the record advice: keep it that way. Empty your accounts, change your appearance, your name—whatever you can. Find a support group, someone to talk through this trauma with, but trust me, you won't win this legally, and he'll finish what he started."

Theo's head was between her knees, hands cupping the back of her neck. She was going to be sick again. Cotton was in her ears again, her heart beating wildly in her chest like she had run a marathon.

"The system isn't made for the victim. All you can do is run, and play dead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm out here ignoring my other WIP and deathly bored in lockdown. I always wanted to do a soulmate AU. I figure this will trace from Man of Steel until Justice League but why add all the tags if events are just background noise?
> 
> Inspired by the film A Vigilante (2018), lack of sleep, and one too many mythology books.


	2. Babel

“ _But, in certain cases, carrying on, merely continuing, is superhuman_.”— Albert Camus

* * *

The experience at the Salinger County PD and of Officer Park set off a sequel panic attack that, like most sequels, is second-rate to the original. After that illuminating advice, and figuring out that she was a few hours outside of Coast City, Theo excused herself to lock herself into the public two-stall bathroom of the building. She avoided the mirror, hands wrapping around the edge of the cheap porcelain sink while leaning back and down towards the floor.

She needed a moment to think.

There had been a plan. Theo had planned for months. Every decision was thought through four moves ahead, and then another four to make sure. It didn't matter though; everything blew up in her face. It probably would have been better for her just to dip without any planning. Probably would have gone a lot smoother than getting caught in the act.

"Fuck," Theo muttered while getting the first look of herself in the mirror. " _Fuck_."

She was a nightmare, how Officer Park just hadn't taken her at her word was astounding. Her shirt was covered in mud and grime, with a few decaying leaves stuck here and there; the charcoal fabric was channeling some 4D art exhibit than a fast-fashion top. Underneath her shirt would have dried blood, Theo knew it would. Her neck wasn't bruised anymore—another mystery to add to the growing list—just red. Her face was much of the same, the stain of whatever she vomited up this present along her chin, and angry red lines scattered along her face stood out starkly on her sallow skin. From being dragged, there were twigs and leaves tangled long brown hair. Her scalp burned—she wouldn't put it past him dragging her by her hair at some point.

_I was definitely dead a few hours ago, no big deal._

The thought fell like thunder, silencing anything else and grounding her in the present. It was absolute, bizarre, and horrifying; it was also happened to be true. 

The first step towards a forming plan was not to look like a victim. She had to be clean, or at least as clean as she could get. She couldn't do much about her clothes, but her skin could be cleaned; Theo twisted the sink faucet to full blast and began scrubbing. Within a few minutes and a few gallons of lukewarm water later, she looked like a functioning (dirty) human being.

As Theo left the ladies' room, she had a semblance of a plan. 

"I need to use a phone," Theo announced, standing before Officer Park's desk. "I need to make a call, and I don't have one."

"Use the phone on the second desk up," Park instructed, continuing to type on her computer. "It'll offer you some privacy. Dial 9 for an outside line."

That thought in itself was laughable, but Theo said nothing, turning and heading directly for the unoccupied desk. Sliding into a chair, she pulled the tabletop phone towards herself, dialed 9 as instructed, waiting impatiently for the dial tone switch before punching in a number she knew by heart. The line rang twice, three times, before clicking over to an automated mailbox greeting with a generic recording: The person you're trying to reach cannot answer your call right now. Please leave a message with your name and number after the beep. Your request will be returned as soon as possible.

Theo wasn't expecting an answer when calling from a police PD.

_BEEP._

"War is peace. Freedom is slavery. Ignorance is strength," she deadpanned, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling. Before hanging up, she added: "Also, you're overdramatic. Jesus."

Now it was a waiting game, and Theo prayed to whatever deities were around her call would be returned sooner rather than later. She hated the police. Officer Park may have been pleasant, but her past experience with authority had rotten her opinion to the core. Star City PD knew her by name for a few years, the irony of her last name was not lost on her and the officers who continuously picked her up. Someone with petty crime background had experience with the police, and as far as Theo was concerned, all police were the same. Who's to say that Park's pleasant attitude would stay around, especially if more officers began trickling in and questioning the situation?

The phone rang once, twice before Theo picked up the receiver.

"Why are you calling from a pigsty, Law?" The voice at the end of the line drawled. "Thought you were clean as the driven snow now."

Theo didn't stop the laugh that erupted, but it sounded more rueful than anything. The irony of sitting in a police station, not arrested, but still pretty much stuck without cuffs, wasn't lost. She cradled the phone on her shoulder, leaning forward on her knees, trying to keep the conversation low. 

"I'm in trouble—" She corrected herself, "—or I was, now I'm just shipwrecked. It didn't work, and I have nothing. I want to call in my favor, Zed."

Zed guffawed. "You don't need to do that. We're friends."

"No, that's why I do." Theo insisted, eyes fluttering around the room, making sure nobody was listening too carefully. "I need…everything. New Year, New You. My money moved, all of it. I want him to suffer."

"That I can do. Should well cover the Cartwheel favor," Zed agreed as light typing was heard on the receiver. "You need to get me in Midway City. You're not too far from Coast City, but you might as well be light-years away from me."

"Always so positive."

"You know me, Law. You ready to do what you gotta do to get what you want?"

Was she? Theo had tried so hard to say on the right path, had fought against everything that stood in her way, and was successful. She had beat the odds once, she could beat them again.

"Yes."

"Thank Christ," Zed actually sounded relieved. "If you get to the corner of uh, 3rd Avenue and Salt Road, there's a Western Union. No ID needed, you're a VIP member as Gracie Lou Freebusch, with the passcode being _Zed is GOAT_. Should be enough cash to get you cross country with a buffer."

The relief that lifted from Theo's chest was immeasurable. "Thanks, Zed."

"Yeah, yeah." They shrugged off the thanks quickly. "I'm on Lincoln Avenue, building 5678. Midway City. You can't possibly miss me. I look like I live in a firebombed storage building. Your entry code is 8081."

"Sounds like you," Theo replied with a smile. "I don't know when I'll get there."

"Fuck me, I know," Zed said. They laughed on the other end before adding, "Last time you had to read a map, you were halfway to Gotham before you figured you were going in the wrong direction."

"Thank you, Z," Theo said, rolling her eyes. "I'll see you when I see you."

The young woman dropped the receiver back on the hook, pushing the telephone to its original position on the desk. It was getting closer to morning, the amount of traffic in the Salinger PD picking up considerably. A few more than comfortable when it came to the amount of police walking around, and when Theo looked towards Officer Parks' desk, the young officer was gone. 

_Time to leave_. 

One would think it would be difficult to slip out away from the police without notice, but nobody said a word as she walked out the front door. Wouldn't be the first time a white woman walked away without suspicion from the police.

**.**

**.**

**.**

One thing instilled in Theo early in her life was that cash was king; being liquid was to be untraceable. That at the moment, she needed to be invisible to anyone. It took 20 minutes to make it to the Western Union on 3rd and Salt Rd; another five minutes for the $5000 to be counted out in small denomination bills. The employee was kind enough to give Theo a small canvas bag he had on the floor somewhere, so she didn't have to carry it in a plastic bag. What a time for Kyle to be environmentally conscious.

The second step was to buy electrical tape and a screwdriver. As Theo paid for the $9.59 purchase, she didn't bother taking the change from the $50 bill; instead choosing to leave it in the weird local business tip jar. The third step of the plan was slightly more…complicated. She needed to borrow a car, borrow the said car without any intention of returning. 

In short, Theo needed to steal a car. 

She had done it once or twice as a teenager, but she had the tools of the trade to jimmy a window open. This time she had nothing. She needed a convertible, older, better, honestly something she could quickly get into, or a tremendous amount of luck that someone left their car unlocked. Moving like silently throughout a parking lot in the early morning, Theo tugged discreetly on door handles, moving on in a grid pattern of the lot when nothing gave. It was on her tenth try, a nondescript 1990s faded red SVU that she was lucky, the passenger side door popped open on her first tug.

Clambering through the car to the driver's seat, Theo slide the seat back as far as it would go, jabbing the pink screwdriver into the keyhole, and twisting. When the car didn't start, she tugged the screwdriver out, slid onto the floor, hunching down under the steering wheel. The Achille's heel of older vehicles was their lack of a sophisticated security system and the almost infant wiring system to the starter. Within a few seconds, Theo had unscrewed the steering column covering, the battered plastic paneling thrown into the backseat. 

There were 3 bundles of wires, color-coded and, of course, unlabeled. Theo knew instinctively that one was for the car lights, another for the wipers and warmers, and the last for battery and ignition. The battery and ignition wires were _usually_ red. While that was not always the case, Theo didn't have time to see if the user manual was in the glove compartment. The clock was ticking.

 _Eeny,  
_ _meeny,_  
_miny,  
_ _moe..._

Grabbing the red wrapped bundle, Theo hastily began removing the old insulation from the end of the two wires. She paused for a moment before twisting the wires together; within seconds, the ignition turned over, and both the radio and lights came to life. Now she just needed the engine to start.

Grabbing at what she hoped was the wire for the starter motor, Theo stripped the end of it like she did the previous. Holding her breath, she touched it lightly to the other two, and—the engine started.

"Thank god," Theo muttered, fumbling for the electrical tape. 

As soon as she had the tape in her hand, Theo tore a medium-length strip off with her teeth then gingerly wrapped the wires together. Hauling herself off the floor, the brunette slumped into the driver seat, and adjusted for less legroom, her back ramrod straight. She didn't even change the mirrors, shifting the vehicle into reverse and quickly getting out of the parking lot.

Theo didn't relax until she hit CA-125. She wouldn't be able to take the main interstates all the way to Midway City. She'd need to keep to the old back roads, less traveled tracks while swapping plates often making the trip even longer. 

Exhaling loudly, Theo just turned up the radio and settled in.

"…have you heard about the city of Gotham? Yeah, okay, we know about the psychotic clown and vigilantes...but now they have an _actual_ man-eating bat flying around…"

**.**

**. . .**

**.**

Somewhere east of the Navajo Nation in New Mexico is where Theo finally stopped long enough to eat and make the first license plate swap. It was a little old diner that probably had been around for fifty-years and would be until the Regulars died off. It had character, with its cracked vinyl bench seats and broken tabletop jukeboxes that had Elvis' greatest hits on display. On the waitress's recommendation, Theo ordered the daily special: 2 pancakes, 2 scrambled eggs, and a piece of toast. The first bite of toast tasted of ash. She made an effort to avoid eating after that; instead, she stopped for plate swaps, and gas, keeping the hunger pains away with water.

It was just over 3 days after she crawled out of her grave that Theo arrived in Midway City, Michigan, around noon. Abandoning the SUV in a parking lot outside the city's main ring, she boarded a bus, getting off twenty minutes after and zig-zagging along the lines. She was playing a real-life shell game if someone should turn up her trail. 

At 1 PM, Theo was standing at the northern end of Lincoln Avenue after walking 20 minutes. There was no bus stop anywhere nearby; the area was industrial but clean, well-kept, but without anyone walking around. Five minutes later, she found the 'firebombed' building labeled 5678. The brick definitely had some fire damage, burned a coal-pitch black color at the base that faded the closer to the roof. The windows were barred, and only one side door was to be seen, an innocuous keypad place to the right of it.

_8…0…8…1_

The door unlocked, and Theo, with a look over her shoulder, stepped inside where it was…underwhelming? The only thing that greeted the greasy-haired brunette was a metal staircase. She took the steps two a time, reaching the top in no time and walking into the apartment. It was an expansive open-concept space, with high motty grey walls, and barn beams sectioned throughout the ceiling. The floors were a dark brown wood, worn and torn up, showing its age that added warmth to the space. It offset the modern furniture and dampened the abrupt shift when looking at the workspace section composed entirely of hard drives, wires, and monitors. The central aspect that struck Theo was the half strung, homemade banner declaring in what looked like paint, _Congratulations!_

"What," Theo began, looking around, then back at the banner, "the actual shit?"

A body that sprung up off the couch, landing on the ground with a heavy thump, groaned loudly into the hardwood floor. Theo chuckled, her body unwinding as she relaxed like a spring while walking towards the back of the couch, leaning over to get a good look. Zed was dressed in a pair of wrinkled jeans and shirt, no shoes, and their black hair was cropped close.

"Ugh," the sound was muffled, and the slurred words following almost unintelligible. "youwerentsupposedhereyet."

"I wasn't gonna make that trip longer," Theo offered before jumping onto the couch, landing on the cushion with a _thump_. "What's up with the banner?"

"Well, I figured it could mean multiple things." Zed started, flipping onto their back to look at Theo. "Congratulations, you left that piece of shite, or congratulations, you're finally back in my gracious presence, or maybe congratulations, my best friend isn't dead. Take your pick."

_If you only knew Zed._

"All three are fine," Theo decided with a small smile. 

It felt like they were thirteen again, the dumbass duo back again making trouble.

"Good," Zed said, jumping up from the floor. "But now I got to finish your shit, so this favor is fulfilled. Then we can drink, watch trashy reality tv, come up with a plan to ruin his life. So, if you could follow me, madame."

The Black Hat didn't even wait for Theo to respond, just made their back towards the workshop with Theo trailing after them like a puppy. The set up was more than Theo ever remembered Zed possessing, proving once again. At the same time, she was out existing within the lanes of the law, her old friend had flourished. Eight monitors were set up on the corner of the room, stacked two upon two, with what looked like several different hard drives. Wires scattered around, the multicolor light-up keyboard bringing the space to life and the Nintendo game of duck hunt running on half of the setup. 

"We've got a Social Security card, a passport, driver license," Zed began listing while flicking through a pile on the table island of blanks. "Uhhh, a few years of tax returns, university records, high school transcripts. The problem is, you gotta decide on a name."

"Oh, we're not going with Gracie Lou Freebusch, then?" 

Zed made a face. "No, that's too conspicuous. You have any ideas?"

"Norah Theo Crain, I've got to keep something of me."

"Yeah, you can still be Theo. " Zed nodded, sitting down in her chair, turning towards her keyboard to begin working. The sound of clicking filled the air. "I've always told clients that the best identities are the ones that are sprinkled with the real one, just altered."

Theo hopped onto the tabletop, watching Zed work. "This your big money maker then?"

"Hell no," the Black Hat answered honestly. "It's how I started after you got out. I got real good but learned quick I needed to diversify my skill set. They call me Babel, and I work mostly in, uh, contract intelligent gathering."

"Babel?"

"This is the only language you need to know to control it all," Zed answered, not bothering to stop as they laid the digital bread crumbs for _Norah T. Crain_. "People ask me to get information, and I do. Can be anything—military, governmental, corporation. Five minutes of work can pay me a couple hundred grand. The dark web pays well."

Theo just _hmmm'd_ in response, and let the lull in the conversation happen naturally. It was funny, the way their lives had both diverged from each other. Theo had been so convinced to go on the straight and narrow, that being on the right side of justice would improve her life. Zed had taken a different path, and they had ended up in a much better spot. For all the effort she had made to get out of the life, Theo found herself right back into the mix when there was nowhere else left to turn.

"And we're done! _Weeeeeell_ ," Zed drawled out as they turned their chair towards Theo, "when I say done, I mean, the automated program will finish out the rest. Now it's time for alcohol and filling me in on what exactly has been happening."

"Do you have enough alcohol?"

"We're about to find out," Zed shrugged, popping out of the chair like a jack in the box. She grabbed Theo's forearm, all but pulling her across the room and down a hall. "First thing, you're taking a shower and changing. You smell like a public restroom."

**. . .**

"…and then I called you from Salinger PD." 

It had only taken twenty minutes to give Zed the abridged version of events. There were doubts, so many doubts floating around in Theo's head that she consciously chose to hold back. A primary concern was, how do you tell someone you died, but are sitting in front of them and _clearly_ not undead? The shower hadn't helped calm the anxiety bubbling in her gut, but it kept her occupied. Theo had scrubbed her skin raw to remove the dirt and grim that her sink wash hadn't, and had the water so hot it could have cooked a lobster. 

Theo's wet, brown hair was pulled up into a tight bun on the top of her head and dressed in borrowed- _borrowed_ clothes: a pair of grey joggers and a white racerback tank top. The flat-screen television was on showing some 24-7 news channel. Still, the volume was low that it didn't interfere with the conversation, just offered some soothing background noise. Zed sat on the couch, curled into the arm, clutching a pillow in their lap while Theo chose to sit on the floor, elbows leaning on the coffee table between the two.

"Shot."

The drink was like fire, burning its way down Theo's throat while her face contorted in disgust. Zed didn't even wince, slamming their glass down onto the coffee table as if they hadn't just ingested jet fuel.

"I just—okay, let me start again," Zed stopping while straightening up on the couch. "I don't understand how I didn't know about this? Why did you wait? Why didn't you tell me? Can I drain his bank accounts and 401k? Put him on the Terrorist Watch List?"

"I don't know what to tell you," Theo shrugs, the movement jerky. "At first, I…I didn't notice, it was small things, and I think I told myself he was right. What did I know? He seemed so great—"

"I remember," Zed cut in, "Your eyes used to light when you talked about him."

Theo didn't deny it while pouring herself another shot. "Yeah, he cut me off from everyone before I realized it. Soon, I just went into the office and came home. It was like being a ghost that he smothered every day."

Tossing back the drink, seconds went by, and then Theo was coughing, the liquor burning its way down her throat. She put the shot glass down on the coffee table, shaking her head vigorously as if that would help get rid of the taste.

"Jesus H. Roosevelt," her voice cracking, face twisting in disgust, tongue peeking out while she stood up from the floor. Grabbing the bottle, Theo motioned with it at Zed. "We can't drink this, I refuse. Where's the good stuff?"

"You're no fun, we used to drink that all the time!"

"We were 18 and literally lifting it out the backdoor of the store—" Theo interrupted her own thought, "—this isn't even bottom shelf, it's basement quality Zed."

" _Pfffft—_ just trying to relive the glory days of the duo. _"_ To their credit, the Black Hat wasn't even phased, choosing to sprawl out on the couch in defeat. "But fine, the liquor cabinet is the third cabinet down from the fridge."

Theo gives a flash of teeth, turning on her heel towards the kitchen as the volume on the TV raises. She's all but six, maybe seven footsteps away from the couch when Zed speaks, their words serious, stone sober words stopping Theo in her tracks:

"What is _that_ on your back?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- When I say slow, I mean sloooow. The speed limit is 5mph.  
> \- I wanted to write more but it felt appropriate to stop here  
> \- Like Donna Noble, what is on Theo's back 😲  
> \- Zed is a waif, elven creature who can destroy a person's entire life with a computer. No relation to Constantine's Zed.


	3. Lady Lazarus, or the Girl Who Lived

“The only thing free in this world is death, and even that comes with a price.” – Kamera Nabors

* * *

> _“I feel like a part of my soul has loved you since the beginning of everything.  
>  Maybe we’re from the same star.” – Poet Emery Allen_
> 
> _The great Greek philosopher Plato wrote on the anomaly of the Soul Mate in his philosophical text_ **_The Symposium_ ** _: "According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves." Chinese mythology and folklore believed the Red String of Fate, an unseen red thread linking two destined lovers who would eventually find themselves together in specific situations._
> 
> _Throughout the history of human existence, numerous folklore and mythologies have been passed in story traditions about soulmates, or destined lovers. In modern history, humanity has written some of the most acclaimed stage plays, pieces of literature, and created art of the phenomena._
> 
> _As whole humanity has struggled with the Soul Mate question of origin asking the seemingly eternal questions: What do they mean? How are they chosen? Are those born with a Mark destined to become the person that compliments their match? If so, is free will just an illusion to some if their paths in life have already been decided? These questions have not been answered. Instead, I pose this question: Should we—scientists, students of the humanities, or even humanity as a species—be privy to such information? To paraphrase an influential pop cultural moment: scientists have become so preoccupied with their quest of discovery, their quest for the ultimate truth, that they never seem to stop to think if they should find the answers._
> 
> — "Some Are Marked: A Theoretical Thesis on the Soul Mark Phenomena, and Whether Humanity is Ready for Its Origins," Liz V. Tavia, Ph.D. (Gotham University Press, 2013) 

The origins of soulmate markings were, to say the least, murky. The world may be smaller, more connected than ever before with science that could defy all previous imaginations, but there was no concrete explanation. There were theories—thousands of theories—that tried to give some symbolic of reasoning, but nothing ever truly scratched the surface. Science and the modern world, which could reconstruct a human heart and regrow lungs, were baffled by the ever-rare phenomena that had only been growing rarer. If there were just over three-hundred and forty thousand babies born each day across the globe, only .002%—shy of seven hundred—would be born with any Mark. Based on the statics of the research, of that percentage, only a small quarter of those grew to fruitarian and even less to ever finding their match.

The world may be smaller, but the odds were still low of fate being in your favor.

You were born with them; you died with them. There was no known way to remove a Mark, no laser or skin removal procedure the modern world had developed could accomplish the task. More so, you didn't simply gain a Mark at a random point in your life, and there was the problem for Theo. As Zed ran a hand over Theo's back—pulling at the tank top to get a better look before telling her to remove it completely—that familiar sense of nausea returned. It curled itself in the base of her stomach before slowly rising up her throat while her heart pounded like a hummingbird in her chest.

The blackened Mark ran from the base of Theo's right scapula, curling on the inside of the shoulder blade, stopping at the base of her neck in a neat semi-circle. Against the white scar tissue that littered her back, the Mark stood out harshly. The skin was raised as if inflamed, angry and red, and in Zed's opinion, like it was healing but not quite right.

"This is not a tattoo."

Not a question. A statement.

"Not unless I got one without realizing it." Theo dreaded what came next. "What, uh, what does it say?"

" ' _T_ _heodora Antigone Law? You're not an easy woman to find. We have a proposition.'"_ Zed answered, trailing the Mark with a finder. "Huh, guess changing your identity just got a little more difficult, didn't it?"

_What the fuck_

_What the fuck_

_What the_ **_fuck_ **

Theo could feel the headache coming on. "And the handwriting?"

"See for yourself," there was a snap—the tell-tale sound of a camera—and suddenly, Zed's phone was thrust into Theo's face. "Honestly, not that bad, though I'm still confused."

The handwriting was neat, Theo would even go far enough to describe it as pretty though it felt like an understatement. Ignoring the angry red flesh that it was now imprinted on, the blocking was a smooth cursive, and obviously heavy-handed. Of course, none of it explained what in the absolute hell it was doing on her body.

 _I am going to be sick_ , Theo thought distantly, pulling her top back on.

Theodora Law did not have a Soul Mark and didn't for the last twenty-five year of her life. She wasn't born with one; Marks didn't just appear out of thin air.

It wasn't possible.

It wasn't.

Was it?

_Oh god._

Her back smacked into a wall with a heavy thump, the bottle that Theo had been gripping with white knuckles dropped onto the floor before rolling away on the darkening edge of her increasing tunnel vision. Suddenly, she was on the floor with Zed in front of her, their hands grasping her shoulders. While Theo is sure they're talking—their mouth is moving—all she can hear is a loud buzzing sound in her ears that grows louder with each passing second. Her neck is hot, flushing red to the tops of her ears while her heart pounds away, trying to burst out from under her sternum to escape. Fingers flex and spasm before Theo's hands are clenched so tightly her knuckles turn a sallow white; her newly regrown nails digging half-moons into the soft skin of her palms. 

"Dora, Dora—you need to breathe. That's good, just like that, in and out."

Zed might as well have been underwater, their words muffled, fading in and out like broken radio signals just _too_ far out of range. When Theo tries to push herself off the floor, try to gain back some sort of control, her legs drop out from under her like she's a newborn deer. All she wants to do is vomit, the bile, and the stomach acid rolling in her stomach like she was riding the Zipper at the county fair again. Much like that time, Theo's head is between her knees, hands tugging at the back of her sweaty neck, fighting to keep it all in.

She didn't want to consider that her vomit could be black sludge again.

"Drink this."

Like a miracle, Zed's kneeling before her, a glass of water in their hands, urging Theo to drink. Without much of a fight, she takes the glass and a sip before going back to focus on her breathing.

It suddenly feels like she's crawling her way out of the dirt all over again.

In.

Out.

_Don't think about coughing on dirt in your throat._

In.

Out.

_Don't think about ripping your nails out._

_Stop._

In.

_Stop._

Out.

**_Stop_** _._

_You're not dying. You're not dead. You're alive._

The mantra looped in Theo's head for the next five minutes as she struggled to slow her heart and get her breathing back to normal. Across from her was Zed, sitting crisscross apple sauce, waiting patiently, as if they hadn't watched their best friend fall apart on their kitchen floor. 

"You good now?"

Theo nodded, finishing off the water.

"Cool, cool, cool. You wanna start off at the beginning? Tell me the truth, maybe?"

Theo grimaced. "Not really."

This is the shit—Theo's unexplained bullshit Mark and everything that came with it—that Zed lived for. A person of science and data, they loved a good puzzle. If they had been different people, with different childhoods, Theo wouldn't have found it so far-fetched that her friend would have become some highbrow scientist. They loved puzzles, and more importantly, solving them. It had gotten the pair into more than a few situations of trouble when they were kids and Theo into more than a few fistfights and assault charges.

There were types of people in the world: the person who saw the padlocks, the warning signs, who read all the danger and said, 'if they're keeping it locked up so tightly, that means it's both dangerous _and_ none of my business.' The second type, though, that person looks at the exact same thing as the first type but says, 'if they want to keep it a secret from us so badly, then it must be worth seeing.'

That was Zed, and at that very moment, Theo was the thing worth seeing.

"He was supposed to be gone," Theo began. She leaned back against the wall forcing her body to relax as she recounted the basic facts. If she stuck to the facts, maybe she wouldn't vomit. "He had a late lunch meeting with some clients from LexCorps. It didn't run as long as I thought it would…I was so fucking stupid—"

"No," Zed interrupted. "You weren't."

"I was, the problem is I just didn't think I was. I had a gun, I'd bought it in cash weeks early and shit, you should be alarmed with how easy that is in America—and I underestimated him. I made the mistake of thinking he wasn't a murder."

 _"You tried to make me so afraid of everything to make me stay, but I don't—I_ **_don't_ ** _love you."_

_The cold weight of the pistol in the back waistband of her jeans felt like an old friend, familiar and welcomed. The first in such a long time, she felt like the old Theo, and not some faded ghost trapped in a house. He may have been between her and the front door—freedom—but the distance didn't frighten her._

_"I've wasted enough of my life here, and on you. This is me getting out. Goodbye, Matthew."_

_It's when Theo shoved past him that she made her first earthshattering mistake, turning her back on him. Within seconds, Matthew's hands were tangled in her hair, gripping harshly and yanking her back then shoving her forward. Her head is smashed into the cream-colored wall, busting the drywall before he pulled her back, the room spinning. Theo's face was broken, skin cut open, blood dripping down into her eyes, but it was the hot breath hitting her ear that made her skin crawl._

_"You dumb bitch, you really think I'd let_ you _walk out on_ me?"

_The room stops spinning for her as much as its able while Matthew continues to shake like a rag doll by the hair. Theo didn't bother going for the hand tangled in her hair like a claw; instead, she threw as much force as possible behind her left foot, slamming it down into his own. Her right elbow pulls back like a slingshot, catching Matthew in his nose, giving her the satisfying crack._

_She'd broken his pretty aquiline nose._

_Theo didn't stop long enough to bask in that fact, turning on her heel while her free hand made a grab for the pistol in her waistband, hidden beneath her denim jacket._

_She'd never really been about guns. She knew how to use them, take them apart, clean them, sure but hadn't used one except as intimidation. They were impersonal, and made a person reliant on an object, on the bullets that made them so deadly but never lasted long enough. Theo preferred her fists, something much more feral about busting her knuckles against someone's teeth. She'd always been comfortable as the muscle, Zed the brain._

_This time though, a gun had seemed like a good choice. Keep distance, out of strike range._

_Matthew had recovered from the nose break, blood gushing down his face making him look like an Instagram influencer's attempt at art. His Armani suit would be ruined, the blood would never come out, not even with dry cleaning. He'd have to throw it away._

_The moment Theo cocked the safety, he made a jab knocking her arm and her shot off target, the bullet embedding itself into the far wall. His hand was on her wrist then, squeezing tightly before giving a twist and a_ snap, _the bone breaking like a dead twig in winter. The gun dropped like a brick, and then Matthew's pianist hands were wrapping their way around Theo's throat as he shoved her back into the wall. When she hit the wall with a_ thwack _, she was inches off the ground, her toes barely scraping the floor._

_"Nothing but street trash didn't matter how much I dressed you up."_

_Theo's heart was pounding like a frightened rabbit as his fingers pressed into her Larynx. She panicked in those first few seconds, gasping for air and flailing, her nails scratching furiously as the hands, ripping into his skin. When that didn't work, Theo turned her right hand into a fist, bringing it down on his forearm in an effort to break Matthew's ever-tightening grip. Her legs tried to kick at anything, but she couldn't get the leverage. She was too out of practice. The edge of her vision was fading, a dark curtain falling as her vision started tunneling from lack of oxygen._

_"You think anyone would love you—"_

_In a last-ditch effort, Theo brought her hand up to Matthew's face and shoved her thumb into his right eye socket, ramming on the eyeball. There was a roar of pain as his hands released from her throat, her body dropping like a sack of potatoes while Theo gasped for breath. The air was burning as she took short, shallow breaths trying to get whatever she could in before moving. Her body had no time to recover, there wasn't time to as she tried to drag her oxygen depilated body in the opposite direction of Matthew._

_The front door was so close._

_Theo never saw the Dolce & Gabbana dress shoe coming. The kick clipped her ribs before she realized it. The second and third blow didn't come as such a surprise, Theo curling in on herself to lessen the blows. She needed an opening, she had to wait. She needed to wait for him to bring back his leg in a swing or a stomp at the right moment for her to grapple him down to the ground. If she moved too earlier, he'd just correct; too late, he'd break a rib. _

_She never got that chance, though. The moment she uncurled to roll on her back, Theo was met with the barrel of the very pistol she bought. The safety was off, and presumably, a bullet in the chamber. In a last-ditch effort, her hands went out in front of herself._

_"Matthew, Mattie, don't—"_

_Two shots to the chest settled the matter, cutting off whatever Theo was trying to plead, the words turning into a sound like a balloon losing air. The shots didn't kill her. Matthew's aim was for shit. He managed to clip her right shoulder, and collar bone, the bullets shattering through bone, ripping muscle and cartilage as they went. The pain was blinding._

_"You want to leave so badly," Matthew dropped the gun, "then fine with me, Theodora."_

_He was on her again then, hands around her throat and squeezing. This time though, her entire right side was useless, her shirt turning red. Her left arm could only do so much as she scratched, clawed, and pulled in vain at Matthew's thick forearm. She didn't have the strength to pull off a Tomoe nage, to flip him over with her leg, and gain control. Her vision was going, she couldn't breathe, her thumping pulse was the loudest thing in the room as she fought to get some oxygen._

_She couldn't breathe_.

"He killed me, Zed." Theo's voice sounded small like she was that five-year-old kid who was dropped off at the children's home all those years ago. Her eyes were burning. "The last thing I remember in that house was looking up at his blood-covered fact and just…his dead eyes. Like Jaws, staring back at me as he squeezed. I _died._ "

For once, Zed said nothing, not that Theo expected much. What could they say?

"I woke up in a pit, like I told you earlier, except I had been dead for hours. Matthew rolled me up in his seventeen-thousand-dollar NourCourture hand-knotted carpet and dumped me outside of Coast City." Theo paused, steadying her breathing, recalling Officer Park's words. "And in an area that had a lot of vehicles in and out, a lot of dirt removal, all in an effort to hide my dead body."

"What do you remember? About waking up, I mean."

"I don't think there's words to do it justice," Theo struggled. She wiped away the tears that had started to fall. "It was…excruciating, but beyond that. It was violent and sudden. I…terrible. I woke up choking on dirt—I can still taste it—and vomited some sort of black, needling sludge."

More tears were coming, but Theo didn't bother with them.

"Every fiber of me hurt, Zed. I wanted to die all over, but I was alive." Her voiced cracked then, sounding slightly hysterical. " _How the fuck is any of this possible?"_

Zed didn't say anything; instead, they just moved slowly towards Theo. It was clear she was volatile, and had somehow only made it through the cross-country trip in high survival mode but was crashing now. When Theo didn't jerk away, Zed pulled her into their body, wrapping themselves around her like a cocoon as soon as Theo's body shuddered with sobs. It went on like that for a few minutes, Theo absentmindedly stroking a hand through Theo's hair. When they'd been in the system together, the roles used to be reversed.

"What do you think?"

The question caught Zed off guard enough to make the Black Hat's body jerk. The sudden movement let Theo move back and return to leaning against the wall, drying her cheeks.

"I know you Zed, you've got have at least ten theories." Theo clarified. "Spill 'em, best to worst." 

"Okay, best-case scenario, you're like Wade Wilson."

"Who the hell is Wade Wilson? You know what, never mind. Worst case, go."

"He's a comic book character," Zed supplied as their mind zipped along. "But worst case: you're an undead spirit seeking revenge riding your rotting meat suit until you kill Matthew and then can be at peace. They call 'em like, revenants if I recall my mythology class."

Theo laughed at that theory; she could almost believe it. Deep in her belly, she was angry, so, _so_ angry when she thought of his face looking down at her squeezing the life out her. He deserved everything and nothing. He didn't deserve to die, that was too easy. He needed to suffer.

Over.

And over.

And over—

"Wade Wilson, he was a character in those comic books Jimmy always read. He was a soldier or something? Anyway, he couldn't die. He just healed up from anything. I don't know if he ever really died, though."

Theo blew a raspberry. "Well, I was definitely dead, so…"

Zed didn't say anything for a minute, staring off into the far wall as the wheels turned.

"It could rationalize the Mark then; I mean, you died and came back."

Theo frowned, her forehead wrinkling up like a Shar-Pei as Zed continued whatever flow of consciousness they had going on.

"I mean, think of everything we know about Soulmates and Soul Marks, which granted, isn't a whole hell of a lot. But we know people are born with them, or they manifest within hours of a baby being born, right? So here you are, you who had no Mark before, you're killed, and you die. We're talking dead for hours, only you came back."

"Yeah," Theo agreed. Those were the facts. "What's your point?"

"My point, dear dead Theo, is you're describing resurrection," Zed said, traipsing off to a bookshelf leaving Theo on the floor. As the Black Hat ran their finger along the spines of the books, she was still talking, working out whatever they were thinking aloud.

"I had this class back when I got bored and took some credits at Midway City University. It was about human experiences and mythology. I don't know really, the professor was…odd—ah ha, here it is."

Zed slides back into their spot on the floor alongside Theo, letting her get a quick glance at the cover but not enough to see the title. Flipping through the pages, all highlighted and marked with page savers, trying to find whatever it was Zed was looking for. 

"He had this theory when it came to people who had near-death experiences, and people who were like, clinically dead but resuscitated. He'd done all this research on soul mates, and what happened to the match when they those experiences, and there were cases of the bond dissolving. You're the opposite of that, but I mean, he theorized that these people were no longer the person that matched their soulmate. Their personalities shifted, changed in such a way they voided the bond they had forged before."

"They still had their mark, though, so I don't see how this applies."

Unperturbed, Zed continued.

"What I'm saying is, take his research and theory and apply it towards you. You didn't have a Mark, but suddenly you have this life-altering experience, you die, and you come back with one? I don't believe in coincidences. Some theories say you meet your soulmate at the time in your life, maybe you weren't the person you needed to be to have it yet."

Seeing the look on Theo's face, Zed fumbled on.

"Not like you weren't worthy or anything like that, but you _literally_ weren't the person you needed to be. You're different now, right? You're not the same."

It sounded like destiny.

"That sounds like bullshit."

Zed shrugged. They identified the problem, worked through a list to a possible solution. It wasn't their problem if Theo didn't like how the pieces fit.

"Look, you wanted to know my theory. How to explain your new piece of artwork that you didn't have before. You don't have to like it or accept it, and I may not even be close to reality, but honestly…this needs to stay between us."

"You think I'm gonna run around telling people I'm Lady Lazarus?" Theo sniggered, knocking her shoulder against Zed. "Yeah, nope, no, not for me. I don't even want to meet whoever this shit on my back is about."

"I wouldn't think so, but there are people out here, groups, they'd be real interested in what you could do—if you can do it again. You need to stay off their radar. I ain't saying they're bad, but you don't want to get rolled in with them." 

"How do you know?"

"When you go poking around in the dark, you usually find the beasts the government would rather stay hidden."

Now that piqued Theo's interest. "What do you mean?"

Zed shrugged. They'd abandoned the textbook by then, tossing it off to the side to throw their arm around Theo's shoulders. It was too bad they hadn't picked up the discarded liquor bottle on their way back from the bookshelf. 

"I don't know much, but they call themselves A.R.G.U.S., and when I snuck a peak, they had a curious track record. It made me think of friggin' X-Files if I'm honest, which I why I'm saying you need to be careful not to become their monster of the week. I had to fry everything I used when I ducked in their firewalls, I didn't want to get burned. Imagine if one of the Families found someone with your rusty skills who couldn't die? Oh, buddy, that'd be some trouble."

It was a colorful picture Zed managed to paint, and Theo had a feeling they were right.

"And what are you going to do about Matthew?"

The change in topic sent Theo for a loop.

"I don't know yet—" that was a lie. She wanted him to suffer, "—but I don't need him to know I'm alive just yet."

"We'll definitely need to update your look; I'll have to add new photo IDs to your files to cut down on any chance of old you popping up. I'm thinking platinum blonde, blunt shoulder-length cut. Brown contacts. We should do that tonight."

Theo just sighed. Of the long list of problems she apparently had—Matthew, being recently dead, an apparent black site government organization collecting weirdos like baseball cards, and maybe Mob connections—her hair color and style were the least of them. Honestly, Officer Park's recommendation of finding a group seemed like a genuinely great idea. She'd barely scratched the surface of her issues.

"I don't know," Theo did know but chose not to put it out in the universe. "And you can't cut hair, plus, it's like late as fuck. Where can you even buy dye?"

"I do my own hair," Zed's words inspired no faith. It didn't seem to matter though as they were messing with their phone, fingers moving quickly over the screen as they got up off the floor. "Postmates, bud. It should be here in about an hour or so. Hope you don't hate it, but you're goin' rock Arctic Fox blonde."

"Jesus Christ—" Theo swore following Zed, "—Fine but at least also get some real booze. Also, I might cry on you again, just warning you."

Then: "Do you know of a gym nearby? You know, like my kind of gym."

"A gym, she asks for!" Zed cackled. "How about an emotional support group first?"

"…do you have numbers for some of those too?"

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**_Midway City—10 December 2013_ **

**_5 months later…_ **

When Theo—or to the rest of the world, Norah Crain—looked into a mirror, she barely recognized the woman looking back at her. She'd chopped off her hair that first night with Zed and kept it that way, a blunt bob just above her shoulders. The Arctic Fox icy blonde had stayed too, having become something of a calling card for herself. The only thing that had stayed the same was her green eyes; Theo had ditched the brown contacts after the ID photos.

Between living with Zed again, who kept a nocturnal sleeping schedule, keeping a steady income, and trying to figure out who—what—she was, the last few months had been strange. The Black Hat hadn't been completely wrong when they called Theo a different person after her so-dubbed resurrection; things weren't normal, and things she had to compartmentalize into little boxes and shove down deep. Luckily the support group that she'd found with Zed's assistance was an enormous help in just dealing with the mental bullshit from Matthew. Following Officer Park's advice was probably the only reason she could sleep for more than a few hours in the night. It also saved Theo from burdening Zed with any more knowledge than needed.

" _Oi!_ Get your 'ead back in the ring!"

Kenneth Murdock's gym was the other reason she wasn't completely mental.

The quick jab to Theo's head struck her in the right cheekbone before a cross to the left, hitting near her ear. All she could hear was buzzing, her head ringing, and while her hands were up to guard her opponent—Sonya—was bigger by almost three feet, and thirty pounds. The two hits would have probably knocked out anyone else, but Theo just shook them off and kept going. Wrapped hands knocking the next hook punch easily, giving her a perfect window to slide in close and strike the larger woman with an elbow strike. 

If Theo had learned anything from her murder, it was that the skills that had kept her alive on the streets were rusty. It only took three weeks before she'd found herself at Murdock's fighter gym, remembering old tricks and learning new ones. Kenny had even been nice enough to throw her some money for the not exactly legal fight club he ran; with him getting a 25% cut of anything she won, Theo knew he didn't let her fight out of the goodness of his heart.

Her high from landing a strike didn't last long when Sony's right foot slammed into her stomach, tossing her like a sack of flour into a corner of the ring. Theo landed with a thump onto the ropes, staying just long enough to the right herself before shoving off the ropes back in. The push-off didn't matter; before she could make a move, Sonya struck her with a turning kick directly onto her left side shoving Theo back into retreat.

Smaller and quicker didn't count for shit at the moment. All Theo could do was dodge, and the longer she stayed on her toes, the faster she'd become sluggish. This wasn't the first time they'd fought, and Theo knew she could go another 10 minutes before she'd get clipped.

"Stop dancing, start fighting! You want' ta win, make _something_ happen."

Theo tried a few quick speed jabs, bouncing back on her toes out of strike range when she missed and went back to dodging. If she could draw Sonya onto the offensive, throw her off—

"Hunter punching doesn't work for you, Crain; you don't have the skills!"

As if proving her coach right, a hit clipped Theo's right side, an outcome from her trawling, knocking the air out of her lungs. She barely had enough time to roll to Sonya's right side along the ring, desperate to create distance. "Thanks, Kenny."

"You're welcome."

The loss of attention was just what Sonya needed. She crowding in on Theo and angling her back into one of the corners of the rings, back against the rope. There was a left, then right hook, paired with a heavy hit to the abs—a mistake that let Theo grab the larger fighter by the back of the neck and use her momentum to throw Sonya into the ropes, and push off to the other side of the ring.

"Good!" Kenny boomed from the gym floor, "Make more choices like that!" 

He jinxed her, of course.

Before Theo knew it, Sonya had her forearm wrapped around Theo's neck from behind, locking her place in a rear headlock submission hold. The vast difference in body weight was more than apparent as Theo struggled to find any out; she didn't have the strength to flip Sonya, could barely lift her off the floor for a moment. Within seconds of struggling, Theo was dropping to her knees, face turning red while she fought to escape, refusing to give up.

"It's over."

"No," Theo's voice was wheezy. She kept punching the forearm wrapped around her neck. "It isn't!"

"Come on, Norah, tap out!"

Dark spots were dancing at the edge of her vision.

"Tap out, Norah!"

To her credit, Theo made it a few more heart-racing seconds before she slapping Sonya's forearm thrice. As soon as Sonya relaxed her grip, Theo fell onto the mat like a limp doll, coughing as she struggled to take in as much air as humanly possible. When her face was no longer red and her body no longer starving for oxygen, Theo couldn't help but punch the mat floor with her gloved hands in frustration.

"Look, girlie," Kenny said, looking at Theo's prone body on the matt. "You can't just go head to head with a fighter a class above you expect to come out on top. That's your problem, you've got skills I haven't seen, you take the hits and keep going, but it don't mean shit if you can't knock your opponent out."

Theo huffed. "Once again, thanks, Kenny."

"Your cut from the last fight is in your locker." The older man gave a smile. "Now get off. Your time's up."

Twenty minutes later, a freshly showered Theo was riding the G train to an upper district of Midway City. It was finally winter, with snow falling sporadically throughout the day and predicted to be the norm for the foreseeable future. She was missing the California warmth already, but despite the dropping temperature and snow on the ground, Theo felt nothing. Dressed in a moto jacket, she stuck out like a sore thumb with the other train passengers who were wearing layers. Not wearing anything would have been too noticeable though, so Theo went through the motions. The new so-called durability of her body was just another variable added to the long list of symptoms that made of the new her; bruises didn't last long, knockout hits simply dazed her, she was quicker, lighter on her feet with a seemingly never-ending appetite to match it all.

A walking question mark, that was Theo Law. 

She pushed all those thoughts away, along with the gnawing hunger she felt in the pit of her stomach, instead choosing to concentrate on counting the stops until her final destination. Though she tried not to keep a schedule, she'd taken the same route over a dozen times since coming to the city. To be unpredictable in a predictable sense.

Four more stops, and then from the train station, it was a 10-minute walk. The district was a mix of residential/retail spaces with heavy foot traffic. It was a perfect location for New Dawn, a women's support group and shelter, tucked away above a fast fashion store, a high-end fast food restaurant, and a corner location Starbucks. New Dawn group managed to be in the middle of everything but invisible unless someone knew what they were looking for. It was a sort of compound almost encompassing the entire top three floors of the complex with a working communal kitchen, a living area, and communal space. New Dawn was a home and a new start for the majority of those who came through its doors. Theo was one of the few who weren't staying in the shelter, and how Zed pulled that off Theo wasn't sure though she assumed the price tag was most likely enormous. 

The number of IOUs just kept growing.

It was 5:45 when Theo finally made it into the meeting, and the sun was sinking low on the horizon, shining through the floor to ceiling windows like fire. She slid into her normal seat—outside the small circle-shaped group of chairs—without much interruption. She hadn't been as vocal in the last few meetings, instead just listening. Sometimes that was enough. The whiteboard pushed up against the wall near the wall of windows had three words written on it:  THE LEAVING MOMENT  _._

"…Even after they got me into a domestic violence shelter, even though I went, I was planning on going back to him. I met him when I was 16, he was all I knew. I thought it was supposed to be like that."

Cheryl was a heavyset, middle-aged woman with dark skin and wide green eyes that reminded Theo of a baby deer. She wore handknitted sweaters from what Theo assumed as 1964, loved jigsaw puzzles, and drank bitter, black coffee like it was nothing. Her kids were nice too or seemed to be on their best behavior whenever Theo ran into in the back of the kitchen when they'd sneak some treats. She was sweet, and had a backbone made of pure iron—it's how she survived. 

"I started meeting new people in the shelter, I met people on my own. I went to counseling groups, and I felt like I had support. To this day, **I** choose not to go back to him. I'm still with my two kids on my own because we're worth more than that."

"That right there," the group's lead counselor Doctor Sadie Ford began after a moment of silence, "that's why it can be so very hard to leave."

Dr. Sadie—she insisted on being called Miss Sadie—was a woman in her mid-to-late forties, with wildly curly greying hair who chose to wear long Bohemian skirts and layers of necklaces. She had a slight Brooklyn accent that the doctor didn't seem to try and hide; her right arm was covered in burns that she didn't try to hide. She gave off the appearance of a hippie but was anything of the sort. She was hardened by what she saw on a daily basis, but despite that, there seemed to be no end to the depth of which she cared for the women who came to New Dawn. 

"It can be difficult to accept that someone close to you, who is supposed to love you, can brutalize and control you. That brutality, that loss of control, it starts to breed worthlessness and that feeling you can't do any better."

It was nothing more than a feeling, a hunch that the good doctor knew Theo was lying about who she was. If she was lying about her name, at least the trauma was real, so there was an understanding between the two women. While Miss Sadie seemed to relax around her, Theo had remained cagey.

"Sometimes we do get that feeling that we can leave, that can get up and out of there, we can go—but then we get scared, start to feel like there's no escape. You're confused, maybe you don't know what's real and not real, but there's something inside all of us, something we know is down deep, we can recognize it. It's how you all got here. You recognized that _you have value_."

 _She isn't wrong_.

"You reach up, reach out, and got help. You grabbed that freedom when there was all that doubt, and you got out of there. That's real. That's what's real."

It was easier for Theo to think about, sure, but she'd wager that if Doctor Sadie knew how she 'grabbed freedom,' she wouldn't be so passionate about it. That's what this whole meeting was about, to share the moment they decided to leave, to inspire the others to leave their partners permanently. It's probably why the bubble of laugher escape before she could shove it back down, bringing all the attention to her.

"Norah," the sound of her alias jerked Theo's attention away from the window. "We haven't heard from you in a few days. Would you like to share your leaving story?"

Theo shrugged, adjusting her chair to be more included in the circle. 

"Did you tell anyone about the abuse?"

"I don't have family," Theo was honest in that respect. "I was a Star City orphan and a runner. And the family I did have, well needlessly to say when I met him, we were in two separate worlds. So no, when I met him, I pretty much had moved across the country from everything I knew. I was glad it was a fresh start. I…I didn't have anyone. Eventually, even if I did want to socialize, the money came out of my food budget, so there was no incentive."

"How long were you with him?"

"4 years." 

The number seemed right, though it felt longer; Theo had discovered that was the defining characteristic of Purgatory. 

"He was so charming in the beginning," nausea swirled in her stomach, but Theo pushed it down, continuing on. "So smooth in his words and all sharp angles. He could charm meat from a lion; it's what made him so dangerous. But he was so beautiful; I couldn't believe he wanted me, and who was I? I was nothing, he made me feel like I was worth something."

"What made you leave?"

Theo fidgeted in the chair, her hands worrying up and down on the top of her tights, the motion more soothing than anything else. Leaning on a forearm, she ran a hand through her short hair, playing with the ends instead of speaking. It was a straight forward question she didn't know how to answer—she didn't really know the answer herself. Looking back, there were thousands of instances, little pinpricks of light in the darkness she had ignored or overlooked on purpose. Maybe they all stayed with her, hanging around like background radiation just building to a lethal dose.

"I found a photo," She frowned, thinking of the last incident that spurred her into action. "It was old, probably twenty-something years-old and from my last group home. It was buried in some box in the attic that I'd been tasked with cleaning."

"And what was so important about that photo, Norah?"

"I don't know." Theo snapped agitated. Embarrassed, she looks away from the group back out of the darkening window. "It was just a photo of us kids at the Rogers' home, I can't tell you when it was taken though I know Peg took. Me and Z right there, front and center with Jimmy and Luis. It was _The Island of Misfit Orphans_."

It was written on the back in Jimmy's terrible fucking chicken scratch, it was his nickname for them all. He used to make them watch the dumb claymation Christmas special constantly. At first, Theo had considered it more tongue in cheek, but the longer she stayed at the Rogers with Zed, the more it became less so. Steve and Peg Rogers made her feel like she mattered, that she was a part of the family as soon the cops had dropped her off weeks after Zed, bloody lip and a black eye. They accepted her, and every time she pushed back, they just pulled her back in, as if they knew Theo was waiting for them to dump her. 

They never did.

"It stuck with me. I couldn't shake that photo."

Theo didn't say that the constant carousel of thought caused her to reach out to Zed, calling the one burner number she knew by heart. That pushed everything into motion, a rock being shoved off the edge of a cliff; there was no stopping the momentum once it started. It was like waking up from a coma, coming out of the cold. Doctor Sadie didn't need to know what good would it do?

"I had help from Z, we moved money slowly, small amounts he wouldn't notice. We planned for months; it was meticulous. He was supposed to be at a late lunch for a merger. I fucked up, wasn't watching the clock—"

"His actions aren't your fault," someone else spoke up. "You can't blame yourself."

"You're not the first to say that," Theo gave a sad smile recalling Zed's reaction months back. "He came home early, and I still tried to leave. I wasn't stopping. We argued, for once, he didn't just start throwing fists. I think more than anything, I caught him off guard. I tried to leave out the front door, and he rammed my face into the drywall."

You could hear a pin drop in the room. A few of the women, already labeled criers by Theo from previous meetings, were tearing up as she spoke.

"That wasn't enough for him, he strangled me. I don't remember anything after that, I woke up, and I was alone. He probably thought he killed me, and I'm still alive. I get to live with him haunting me." 

Across from her Doctor, Sadie was gripping her clipboard with white knuckles. 

"Thank you for sharing your story, Norah. I know you have been cautious with what you've shared with us, but I hope you will feel more comfortable sharing in the future."

Theo didn't say anything, opting to just lean back into her chair and cross her arms, looking out the window. Dr. Sadie just moved on, addressing the rest of the group. 

"If it's okay with all you, I'd like to end this session by taking a moment of silence for Sarah."

**. .**

Instead of leaving when the meeting ended, Theo accepted the invitation from the good doctor to stay for dinner. She didn't have anywhere else to be, no fight later that night, and with Zed still sleeping, all she could do when she got home was watch TV. She was actively trying _not_ to watch Matthew's cameras and geocaches. 

Which is how she ended up on clean up duty with Janet in the communal kitchen. It was a large space, slightly larger than a residential kitchen, with two separate work stations than included industrial sinks, dishwasher, and open shelf space that housed bland, white plates, cups, and bowls. The pair working near silence after an awkward and tense dinner, the only sound filling the communal kitchen was the sparse banging of cutlery and plates. Theo had no idea what she could have possibly done, she wasn't around long enough to do much.

"Alright, what's your deal? What did I do that was wrong?"

Janet was generally polite, if not someone with rough edges. She was in her mid-thirties with inky black hair, an accent Theo couldn't place, and the mother of twin fourteen-year-old boys who were obsessed with comic books and video games. In those two ways, they reminded her of Jimmy and Luis. It was probably the reason Theo had taken a shine to them when she first ran into them on her third visit to New Dawn. The duo hadn't been sociable until she dropped a stack of comics as a 'donation' a month ago, and then they seemed to open up. They were just genuinely good kids. 

"It's not so much what you did wrong than what you've continued to do, Norah. I just—you know I would appreciate it if you would stay away from my boys when you are here."

The passive-aggressive tone was a bit much, Theo almost dropped the bowl she'd been drying.

"Seriously?" Theo asked, her face scrunching up. She turned to look at Janet when she spoke, "I don't get what's—"

"Of course, you don't see the problem," Janet cut her off. "You flutter in and out of this place like it's an airport terminal. You think we're all rubes, that I don't know where your busted knuckles come from, but I grew up on the wrong side of the tracks just like you. You dangle your definition of control in front of my boys like candy on a stick."

_This is news to me._

When Theo didn't respond, Janet kept pressing forward.

"You come and go like it no big deal, and I think I can understand that, but you don't seem to care if you put yourself in a position where you can take away from the younger ones here. I want to rebuild my life to make something better for my kids, for my community—what are you rebuilding for? Do you even know, or are you content with just…wasting away?"

_What the fuck?_

"The doc says we all deal with our trauma differently," Theo said, trying to rein in her reaction. She couldn't lose her temper; she wasn't even sure what that would look like now if she did. "I'll stop talking to your kids, whatever you want. I don't give a shit."

Janet rolled her eyes. 

"That's the problem, right there. You don't give a shit about anything, it seems."

Before Theo knew it, the middle-aged mother was in front of her, furious. 

"The women, the men who've died wanting out? Every graveyard is full of people who didn't make it, and here you stand, having the audacity to 'not give a shit' about anything. It's disrespectful to them and to the ones who will die tomorrow. Do you know how lucky you are, not to have to restart from scratch?"

The question was all but rhetorical because Janet continued. She was burning through her fury in a way only like a mother could.

"It's a massacre out there, and _this,_ " Janet waved her hand at their surroundings, "this is our triage. We would have loved to fight back, to have the weapons to do it, even if killed us. You're alive Norah, and what are you going to do with that but waste it? _That's_ what bothers me."

Having said her piece, Janet rehung the kitchen towel she'd been using on the nearby rack and left a stunned Theo behind. 

"What the hell."

The words barely escaped behind Theo's clenched teeth, sounding more like a wheeze than syllables, she tossed the towel she'd been using for drying onto the counter. At the base of her skull was a sudden pounding sensation that was creeping up to settle behind her eyes. Grabbing her discarded jacket by the doorway, Theo yanked it on while making her way out of the communal kitchen. She didn't storm out, her actions were just below that level of dramatics as she left New Dawn, passing a caught off guard Doctor Sadie sliding out the front door all.

She didn't stop until she reached the train station, but Theo couldn't stay still; instead, she paced the platform, waiting. Five minutes later, the southbound train arrived, and Theo board all but collapsing onto a gross vomit green colored bench seat. The flickering halogen lights making the headache worse, her head felt like it was clamped in a vice, a constant pressure behind her eyes.

Maybe Janet was right. She was alive, breathing when so many others were in graves. 

What had she done to earn it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyye what about the Synder Cut of the Justice League getting dropped next year on HBO Max? Now admit the Ayers' cut of Suicide Squad exists you cowards.
> 
> This chapter was originally longer but I cut out the events of Man of Steel. It didn't feel right. I wanted to make sure Theo was established before moving on and diving fully into events, which I think is done fairly well here. I struggled a lot with it all, especially giving her a defining moment to make her question her path.
> 
> And because Marvel is confirmed to exist in the multiverse of DC, I just lay some easter eggs around with names. I like to think Marvel Comics exists for the youths until you know, they start writing about Super-Man and Wonder Woman.
> 
> It also didn't help someone was like, "but Lux when does this all take place?" which led me down the rabbit hole to make sure I had a timeline:
> 
> 1918 – Diana leaves Thimsyera; War of The Gods officially ends  
> 1981 – The Waynes are murdered, Bruce is the sole survivor  
> 1982 – STAR Labs gets its Mother Box  
> 1984 – Wonder Woman fights Cheeta, Maxwell Lord  
> 1986 - Arthur Curry is born  
> 1987 - Theo is born  
> 1992 - Barry Allen is born  
> 1995 – The Batman of Gotham is born  
> 2010 – Joker and Harley murder Robin (for me this was Jason)  
> 2013 – August: Theo is resurrected in a shallow grave outside of Coast City ( **you are here** )  
> 2013 – 15 December: Battle of Metropolis/Black Zero Event aka Superman reveals himself to the world  
> 2014 – January: Theo officially begins her journey on becoming a vigilante  
> 2015 – 13 November: Superman is killed (Batman vs Superman)  
> 2015 - November: Lex Luthor makes contact with Steppenwolf because he's a dick  
> 2016 – 8 August: Battle of Midway City  
> 2016 - Late August: Bruce Wayne meets with Amanda Waller to begin his recruitment  
> 2017 – January/February: Battle of Pozharnov (Justice League)


	4. Of Gods and Men of Steel

_“Either we are alone in the Universe or we are not. Both are equally terrifying.”_ – Arthur C. Clarke

* * *

 **_10 December 2013 10:58 PM  
_ ** **_Later that night. . ._ **

Zed was a nocturnal creature by choice as well by profession. 

It wasn't too odd, Midway City was almost a Las Vegas in the sense that the city was always awake, alive and moving. It was like New York in that sense; a lite level of grim blackened its image and create a need for them to provide for, but not enough to frighten away the majority of tourists. Honestly, there'd be more business in Gotham, but there was that whole nasty bat business to worry about. And for business, the location and safety of clients (read: themselves) was vital. Better yet was the central locale, everyone was almost always willing to meet in the middle.

They kept a schedule—describing it as a ritual would be too dramatic—of how each night ran. They woke up, took a shower to actually wake up, and to the kitchen for the routine bowl of Cocoa Puffs and Adult Swim reruns. It was a simple existence, and it hadn't been too jostled with Theo's addition; they'd slipped right back into their friendship, entirely in step. Sure, a lot of time was being spent not working, but a break never killed anyone except the bank balance, right?

Right.

It was 12:43 AM when Zed stumbled their way into the kitchen. They grabbed a bowl from the cabinet, milk from the fridge, a spoon, and the Cocoa Puffs off the counter. Biting back a yawn, Zed began shaking out the cereal, ideally hoping that maybe Harvey Birdman would be on. It was late enough, and fuck it if the bumbling lawyer didn't make the law hilarious—

"I want to test out whatever this is."

"For fucks sake!" Dry Cocoa Puffs spilled cross the counter as Zed's whole body jerked, twisting around. Theo's head was popped over the back of the couch as if she'd been lying in wait in the dark until their arrival. Her hair was more a birds' nest than anything, and the bags were heavy under her eyes from what Zed could see.

 _She probably was_ , Zed scowled, scoping the cereal off into the bowl. _Least this isn't night terrors._

"Repeat that," They requested, pouring some milk. "Without scaring the shit out of me bit."

"I want to test out whatever this is," Theo repeated, hauling herself off the couch, stalking towards the kitchen. Zed didn't respond, just started in on their cereal; Theo took it as a sign to continue, sitting opposite on a stool. "At my meeting this afternoon…I think I've been looking at this all wrong. Should I be doing more, not just worrying about well, Matthew?"

"Wut d' ou 'ean?"

"I want to know how far I can go; how far can I take whatever I am." 

Theo's hand worried through her hair as she tried to find the words; Zed continued to eat, adding more cereal to counterbalance the amount of milk.

"I thought that wanting to get back at Matthew, waiting and tracking, would be enough, but now I'm not sure. Should I be doing more? What's more, even mean? Matthew just seems to narrow. What comes after?"

"After what, you haven't made any moves yet. And too narrow?" Zed dropped their spoon into the bowl with a _clank_. "Do you not remember about Mulder and Scully? Or literally any private corporation interested in making a buck?"

"I know—I know, just hear me out. We just run a few uh, controlled tests." Theo's hands were flat on the bar top, barely containing the nervous energy in her chest. "We have everything we need security-wise: you. We use a brick set up, you know, air gap computer and hard drives, AES, and polymorphic layered encryption with a fire sale fail-safe. If it's compromised, it burns."

"Picked up a few things from me. Do you never know what half of what you said means?"

Zed drained the bowl of milk, then pushed it aside, mulling over Theo's proposition. They didn't say anything for several minutes, mind running through what would be needed to pull off such a setup. Every second Zed stayed silent only pushed Theo into more doubt.

"Everything would need to be air-gapped, but even a self-contained network can be compromised. I would know," Zed's lips quirked. "I mean, we would need a Stingray, radiofrequency protection too. While I'd feel more comfortable building my own gear, I get the feeling we don't have the time. Am I right?"

Theo's face crinkled into something that could only be described as sheepish.

"I'm going to pay you. I technically already shuffled a few grand over to cover some costs. You know what Peg used to say: in for a penny, in for a pound."

Zed sighed. They had really just wanted to watch Harvey Birdman.

"Fine, I know where we can make midnight pick up."

**.**

**.**

**.**

**File Destination: /documents/video/Field_Test/Test_001_Law.mkv**  
 **File Created: 13 December 2013 at 01:03 AM  
** **File Name: Test 001**

The camera work was sloppy: the framing off-center, the tripod a little too low, giving a skewed view of the condemned port warehouse. The floors were concrete—freezing—scratched and gouged throughout from when it was actually used for shipping containers. Still, the section that could be seen was covered by a blue plastic tarp. The overhead industrial pendant lights flickered as the corroded wiring was just trying to keep from exploding into a building a fire. 

In the middle of the footage stood Theo and Zed.

Dressed in layers upon layers, Zed looked more like a mountain of walking winter clothes in boots, scarf, puffer jacket, gloves, and beanie. On the other hand, Theo was barefoot, wearing nothing but black shorts and matching black sports bra. She was holding something out in her left hand, waiting for the Black Hat to take it.

The camera barely registered the audio, fading in and out.

"I want you to shoot me."

"What the fuck, no—"

"—the whole point of this, Zee—"

"You're crazy, you're certifiable!" On the footage, Zed's hands flailing wildly. "I'm not shooting my sister—"

"—did you think I meant—far I could go?"

With Zed's voice rising in pitch, the camera picking it up. 

"—not like some Eli Roth snuff film!"

Theo gripped the gun tighter by her side. At the same time, Zed continued to lay out their 4-point defense of everything she had proposed was a terrible idea. It was all going in one ear and out the other, though, and the longer Zed went on, the more convinced Theo became. They'd been building up to this for the last 48 hours. If she didn't do it now, if she didn't go through with it, Theo wasn't sure she ever would. 

"—if you're not going to—"

The gun's barrel was pressing into the side of Theo's skull then, above her right ear. At that sight, Zed truly began to panic.

"—no, no, don't—"

"—it'll be hours. Let the camera run—"

There was a loud pop, Theo's body hit the tarp-covered floor, and the camera's mic seemingly cutting out altogether. Zed was left squawking, making jerky motions over Theo's bleeding body. The footage continued until a distraught and crying Zed disappeared out of the frame, before slinking back and covering her with a section of the floor tarp then leaving again. 

The footage time-lapsed then, and over the next few minutes—in reality, hours—Theo's corpse on the plastic tarp didn't move. The only characteristic that proved that time was passing was the sun's angle as morning donned, the passage of morning light moving in sync with the camera's own running clock in the lower right corner.

At 10:43 AM, just over nine hours later, Zed returned, creeping back into the frame with slow, almost hesitant movements. When they discovered nothing had changed, the Black Hat all but collapsed onto the ground, their back on Theo. 

The sound of crinkling filled the air through Zed wasn't moving. 

By the time the Black Hat turned around, the sheet was falling down as Theo sat straight up, rising from the dead. Her head was healed, the unblemished but bald patch stained red, brain matter still sticking to a few places, proving that she definitely had been successful in her goal.

"Holy mother of God."

The footage cut off a few minutes later, still focusing on the pair, the screen turning black. Within a millisecond, an automated prompt list flickered up, the terminal blinking as it waiting for a command:

**Play Next File: Yes or No?**

**/documents/video/Field_Test/Test_002.mkv  
** **/documents/video/Field_Test/Test_003.mkv  
****/documents/video/Field_Test/Test_004.mkv**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**14 December 2013 – 6:43 PM**

Having been awake for nearly 18 hours without any rest, Zed was wired off a crude mix of coffee, and Five Hour Energy shots. Their hands shaking like a ninety-year-old Parkinson's patient. Standing in the kitchen, they poured two drinks, keeping one for themselves before sliding the other to Theo. They chose to remain standing; Theo slouched on a bar stool. In the background, the television was playing some marathon at low volume, filling the void with noise.

"I won't say I didn't believe you, Dora," Zed's voice was low, winded, showcases their exhaustion. "But seeing that in person was, uh, wild."

Theo didn't respond, instead downed half the glass of vodka without flinching. She'd taken a shower and changed into a pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. The bald spot from the gunshot gone, the hair already regrown and was in need of being dyed. Zed was still in the clothes from earlier that night, having just shed the layers, leaving themselves in just jeans and a ratty t-shirt. It'd been a long fucking night and morning for the both of them, and one that hadn't ended just because Theo woke up. They hadn't gotten back to the loft until afternoon.

"But a warning," Zed leaned in towards Theo, making sure she paying attention. "Don't **ever** pull that ambush bullshit on me again, though. You do, and I walk. You get me?"

Theo nodded. "I didn't mean to do that; I just knew if I didn't do it then, I never would."

"That doesn't matter, where did you even get a gun?" Zed asked, backtracking just as quickly. "You know what, I don't care. I just—I mean, you _were_ dead, and then you just sat up like some scene out of _Paranormal Activity_."

"You're preaching to the chore," Theo drawled. She couldn't stop herself from rubbing her hands up her cheeks then through her hair, fingers worrying the split ends. "Honestly, cards on the table, twenty-percent of me definitely worried I'd be dead for good."

"So, you—"

"—Thought I would die?" Theo interrupted. "I mean shit, Zee, I figured it was a real possibility."

"Jesus," Zed muttered, leaning up against the bar top sighing. "Okay, I definitely don't have time to unpack that and my emotional trauma in the same night. Let's think scientifically here—"

Theo rolled her eyes. "Glad to know what you think of my mental health struggles."

Zed chose to ignore her sarcasm. 

"You went four for four, and the gunshot was the only thing to kick you out of commission for hours," Zed started. "I mean, don't get me wrong the blunt force trauma fucked you up good, but it and the knife wound healed within an hour or so."

Theo crossed her arms and leaned forward. "What are you thinking?"

"The same thing we've been saying for the last few months: you've got some degree of durability and some sort of regeneration." 

"But?"

Zed shook their head. 

"No, but, the real question is, just does it get stronger the harder you push it, or is there a limit?"

Theo had a joke on the tip of her tongue— _we know the limit does not exist, Zee_ —but the words were lost as the loft lights and power cut off. Still, the volume of the television suddenly jumped up in level and pitch. The sound of screeching television snow filled the air, with the same noise echoing from the pair of phones on the counter.

"Is the—"

"Power off? Yes."

Zed pushed off the bar, passing Theo as she moved off the stool, the pair of them walking toward the living room. The television screen was definitely still on, showing that old-timey VHS noise. Suddenly words were flashing across the screen, a male voice narrating slowly, fading in and out, repeating the same message: **YOU ARE NOT ALONE**.

Zed and Theo were left standing stock-still behind the couch.

As quickly as the message kept repeating, it was gone, replaced instead by…some sort of figure in the noise. The shape moved like water across the screen, swaying as they spoke. It looked like something out of a nightmare. Theo could swear as the noise flickered a skull could be seen.

"My name is General Zod. I come from a world far from yours, I have journeyed across an ocean of stars to reach you. For some time, your world has sheltered one of **my** citizens. I request that you return this individual to my custody. For reasons unknown, he has chosen to keep his existence a secret from you. He will have made efforts to blend in: He will look like you, but he is **not** one of you."

Theo felt a light tug on her right hand, pulling her eyes off the message on the screen to see Zed's pinky loop with her own. Just like when they were kids, and one of them needed comfort. Theo's pinky gripped tightly as her attention moved back to the TV.

"To those of you who may know of his current location: the fate of your planet rests in your hands. To Kal-El, I say this: surrender within 24 hours, or watch this world suffer the consequences."

As sudden as the message had started, the television cut to black, the loft falling into complete darkness. In seconds, the power snapped back on as if whatever had been damming it up, finally breaking. The three pendant lights in the kitchen above the bar popping in a row, the bulbs blowing into a million little pieces, littering the floor. 

Unlike the lightbulbs, the TV was spared from whatever power surge had happened. In a few moments, the signals seemed to connect, and the regular digital signal was back. Theo dived for the remote over the top of the couch, changing the channel quickly to CNN that itself was scrambling on a live broadcast, completely caught off guard.

Rolling her body, Theo struggled to sit upright on the couch. When she did right herself, she shot a look at Zed behind her, an almost Cheshire cat grin growing on her face. 

"Don't say it."

Theo couldn't contain her high-pitched squeal. "Friggin' aliens, dude!"

**. . .**

To say that the next 24-hours were tense would be an understatement of the century. 

Midway City found itself under some form of a curfew with a stay at home order being declared earlier that following morning by a frazzled mayor, then Michigan governor. Zed had left the couch sometime past midnight and was still passed out. Theo herself had stayed curled in on the couch, falling asleep by 3 AM watching Futurama. 

The so-called Zod transmission was the only thing that was seemingly covered on the news. The Big Three channels—CBS, NBC, ABC—all using their special report abilities to break into regular TV schedules for their interviews with various specialists. They went through the laundry list of specialists: astronomers, astrophysicists, retried military generals, as well as a slew of others. The videos of the unidentified crafts filmed in the skies were replayed and picked apart. 

Theo woke up to such an argument, well past noon.

_"You stare at the cosmos every day, Neil. That's your job! How could we not see this coming?"_

_"Lisa—Lisa, your position is inherently flawed. You're working on the assumption that alien technology would not be far more advanced than our own. What we are seeing, what this so-called Zod Transmission proved, is that our technology is greatly outmatched."_

_"What are you saying?"_

_"I'm saying the fact that none of us saw this coming does not bode well for humanity."_

Theo stood from the couch, stretching out and popping her joints. There was a crick in her neck from sleeping wrong, and her body was completely stiff from lack of movement. She was starving. It seemed to be an almost daily undercurrent she felt daily, a bit of a gnawing sensation that grew throughout the day, continually pushing her to eat. Unlike Zed, Theo didn't bother with a small cereal bowl, instead of grabbing what would have been considering a large serving bowl. She filled it with the rest of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, took it, and the milk back towards the couch and dropped onto the floor, back resting against the edge of the sofa.

Pouring some milk into the bowl, Theo changed the channel, settling on another group of talking heads.

_"—We have to give up whoever this character is, to protect our citizens if they are in the United States. If we are harboring a fugitive, then we have to turn them in—"_

_"—You're saying to cooperate with terrorists? Did you not hear their threat towards the entire planet? And you think handing—"_

_"—I think handing over this fugitive may be the only shot we have. Our time is running out, Kathy. We have what, only a few hours left? If they aren't a citizen, they should be afforded none of our protections."_

_"Now that's an interesting perspective, Ken. Would an alien individual from another planet be provided what we have always referred to as 'human rights'?"_

"My sleep cycle is fucked," Zed groused, walking into the kitchen. There was a clatter as they started in on making coffee, the news roundtable continuing their debate. While Zed waiting for the machine to get to work, they leaned back on the counter, watching the screen. 

"Have you been watching this since last night?"

Theo swallowed a bite of her cereal before answering. 

"No. Fell asleep around like, 3ish?" Theo wasn't sure, but it felt right. "So only for the last five minutes or so. We're under a shelter in place order and curfew. They won't say Martial Law 'cause people get nervous, but I mean…might as well."

Zed made a face at the speakers. "They're not even scientists."

"ABC had Neil deGrasse Tyson," Theo offered, adding: "And according to Twitter, NBC had Stephen Hawking on and was like full-on doomsday scenario about this whole thing."

_"I'm sorry, but we're going to have to break in our Special Report with uh, breaking news. There seems to some sort of…alien activity in Kansas. We're going to go to our local affiliate, KUPQ News, and Janelle Davis, who is reporting live from Smallville, Kansas. Janelle, describe what you're seeing."_

_"Uh, well, Michael, it's pure chaos. I don't know if Jeff here can get a shot for you to see, we may be too far away and the view obstructed. Still, a few minutes ago, a gas station exploded here in downtown Smallville. Residents I've been able to speak to say a man literally came through the walls of the store and may have impacted the gas pumps causing the explosion."_

"Oh shit," Zed muttered. "You think it's them?"

"In BFE Kansas?" Theo snorted, head leaning back on the couch towards Zed. "Not likely, probably meth dealer, though."

 _"I'm sorry Janelle, can you repeat that? Did you say a_ man-caused _the explosion?"_

_"Yes—a man. Witnesses say there were two. A person described them as 'dressed funny in some weird outfits' and that a physical fight escalated in the street."_

_"Janelle, we hear reports that the military is in the area, is that true?"_

_"Yes, Michael. Military is on the scene. I repeat: we've seen several military personnel and military helicopters in the airspace over the town and outer-worldly individuals. My God, Jeff—Jeff turn the camera around, yes, over to your left. Michael, what you're seeing now is the leftover from a collapsed building. I repeat, the building just collapsed, my lord, I hope there weren't any people inside there."_

Zed sat down in a leather accent chair, coffee in hand. "Not likely?"

Theo rolled her eyes. 

_"What can you see now, Janelle?"_

_"We have structural fires breaking out across the main street here. Even at this distance, which is a few blocks away, the air smells like ash and wall installation Michael. Emergency services have begun entering the scene, I can tell you right now the local fire department is going to be overwhelmed."_

"On a positive note, I'm like the smallest fish in this freak pool."

"For the time being—fuck me, was that a train?!"

_"Michael, a train, I repeat, a train has exploded here in a storefront downtown. It looked as if two objects were thrown into it, literally lifting the train off its tracks—"_

_"It seems we've lost Janelle's signal. If you're just joining us, there seems to be some sort of altercation in the town of Smallville, Kansas. The military is on the scene, and one of our affiliate reporters just witnessed a train exploding. You can see the footage looping in the upper right of your screen."_

"Social media is still going strong, some blurry Big Foot style photos," Zed shared going through the feeds on her phone. "I wouldn't be surprised if the military tries to make it a black hole of information."

Theo made a face, lowering the TV volume, and changing to another network.

"They can't control the internet, Zee."

The Black Hat scoffed. They weren't too surprised at the comment.

"You got enough power, enough leverage, and a big enough brain you can control do, well, anything," Zed admitted. "The internet is like anything else, Dora, you can damn it up long enough to stop it."

Theo blanched. "That's sufficiently terrifying."

"Why do you think your laptop is locked up a nice little lead-lined suitcase?" Zed supplied. "That shit isn't getting hijacked."

Theo began refilling her empty bowl. "I'd say you're paranoid but—"

"—doesn't mean they're not after me."

_"After examining the Zod Transmission, we believe it may have been delivered via some type of neutral radiation, much like the background cosmic radiation. Michael, this type of radiation is literally what is leftover from the Big Bang, from the creation of the Universe."_

Zed nodded at the TV. "That makes sense. I mean, pointless, but it makes sense."

"How's that?"

"Well, like classic TV snow was an antenna picking up electromagnetic noise, or weird radio signals crossing. We saw that message, and so did the rest of the world, the easiest way would be by the background radiation. Knowing how they sent the message, though, it isn't important. It's like…knowing what type of equipment I used on a job, but not who I was, or from where I did it from."

"So, background noise," Theo repeated with a smile.

"Yeah."

_"Excuse me, Dr. Foster, let me interrupt you. We've got even more breaking news. Viewers, if you're just now joining us, it is my duty to tell you while the so-called Zod deadline has not been passed, an alien craft has breached the skies over the city of Metropolis._

_Yes, I will repeat, an alien craft has landed in the middle of Metropolis, and something, uh is happening. We're going to cut to the video feed from MC1T."_

The anchor disappeared, the network cutting to a live feed from the city of Metropolis. The cityscape filled the screen and the most atrocious tripod shape craft that dwarfed the skyscrapers, shooting a beam into the ground. There seemed to be silence in the feed. In contrast, the ground seemed to roll like waves, like the earth was water. It shook the very foundations of the buildings standing before it shattered in sound. Glass shattered, raining down like a thousand little knives. Cars that had been lifted into the air in the immediate vicinity crashed down, crumbled into nothing. With each shudder of the beam, the buildings of Metropolis turning into nothing more than warped piles of steel and concrete, crumbling in the behemoth's wake. 

"Holy shit," Theo breathed out.

_"If you are just joining us, we're witnessing the destruction of Metropolis' city center by the unknown entities responsible for the Zod transmission. We have confirmed from various sources within the DoD and the Pentagon that these entities are responsible, and confirmed with us that the military is taking direct action. We have Olivia Esparza live from the retail district here via phone, Olivia, can you describe what you're seeing for our viewers?"_

The video feed cut in and out; the panic of whoever was behind the camera as they sprinted. The lens was pointing at what they were running from, giving a clear image of the carnage and others fleeing.

_"Yes, I can, Ken. What you can't see at home is the utter devastation happening. We have confirmed the sighting of USAAF aircraft within the immediate vicinity as of 10 minutes ago. As of five, I can confirm two of the crafts have been destroyed by the aliens."_

_"Did the pilots eject safely, Olivia?"_

_"We were unable to see from our vantage point, I'm sorry Ken. I am well outside the epicenter of the event. Here people have fled to be treated in a simple triage system built from a patchwork of nurses, doctors, police, firefighters, as well as volunteers treating people for anything from breathing difficulties due to the inhalants in the air, head injuries to broken bones and shock. I have not seen such horror since New York—oh my god, the building that houses the Metropolis'_ Daily Planet _has collapsed."_

The live video footage cut out, the duel cut screen going to black on one side and leaving the anchor by himself. The video feed didn't come back.

_"I'm getting words from my producers that with the Cat Grant Building collapse, we've lost our transmitter. We can only pray to God that building, and those in the area, had been evacuated."_

_"If you are just now joining us: the question of whether we are alone in the Universe has been answered. The cost of that answer is Metropolis."_

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Bruce?"

"Jack, listen to me: I want you to get everyone out of the building right now. Jack? Jack?"

Bruce Wayne threw the mobile phone down when the line cutting, slamming his foot down and pushing the engine of the Port Security Jeep harder, to go faster. The streets of Metropolis' financial district were in complete chaos. Dodging falling debris—pieces of building, hot steel—and abandon cars in the road, he raced his way towards Wayne Financial building. Bruce didn't stop the Port Security jeep for anything, ramming through an open car door only moments before.

It was the people that made him stop, letting off the engine, and getting out of the Jeep. They were all watching the same thing: the craft hovering, dead to the world, no longer pulsating the ground. Suddenly, there was an electronic wave, a blast into the side of the craft, and Bruce was sprinting. 

He was only one or two blocks away. He could make it. He'd pushed himself harder before. 

Bruce rounded the corner, the building finally insight, and he tried Jack's number again.

_"We're sorry. All circuits are busy now, please try your call again later."_

The automated message hadn't even finished playing when Bruce saw something fly into the building. The impact was earth-shattering, or at least at the sonic level. Then there was the golden-orange hue of fire—as if someone had taken fire and forced it into a blade, cutting through the building's steel-like tissue paper. It moved in arch patterns with no meaning, chaos. Glass shattered, raining on the street below. The building was falling like a house of cards, the weight giving in on itself. It tumbled, concrete falling, dust rising up like a wall ready to suffocate any in its path. It moved like it had a mind of its own.

"Jack?! JACK?!"

Bruce didn't even think, he pushed onwards. People were screaming, the screeching of metal on metal filled the air and then—

Nothing.

There was no sound, and slowly a light buzzing sound filled his ears. He couldn't see anything for the first few minutes, and when he could, only a few feet in front of him. In the distance, he could faintly make out the sound of car alarms, and building fire alarms going off, but they faded in and out like a broken radio signal. It was just him, alone. 

Then suddenly, it wasn't.

People came out of the dust fog in a daze, covered in building material and dirt, they staggered and stumbled, trying to find a way out. Bruce pushed forward, moving a child into a line being directed by a teacher as he moved on towards what had been Wayne Financial. He wasn't Bruce Wayne, playboy, billionaire, philanthropist, but he wasn't quite Batman either. 

"Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne! I can't—I can't feel my legs!"

Moving quickly, Bruce found a Wayne security guard pinned at the knee under the industrial beam, that, without help, wouldn't be moved. 

"Hey, we need some help over here!" 

The guard grabbed Bruce by the shirt. "I can't feel my legs."

"Hey, you're going to be okay," Bruce reassured him, then seeing his name tag, continued as help arrived. "Wallace? Can I call you Wally?"

"You're the boss, Boss."

When the two strangers grabbed Wally's arm, Bruce lifted the beam long enough for them to drag him out. It was quick, but not over for the guard who still couldn't feel his legs. Looking up and past Wallace, Bruce heard the groaning of steel and tell-tale shift of concrete. A few yards away was a little girl, covered in dirt and dust, bawling.

As the groaning continued, Bruce sprinted forward, swiftly yanking the girl up under his armpit as if she weighed nothing. Behind them, there was a heavy thump of steel and concrete where the pair had just been, dust falling around them as Bruce placed the crying girl back on her own feet.

"It's okay, you're going be okay. You're alright." He had never been great at comfort, but he tried. The child seemed fine physically but was in shock. He knew shock. "You know what, we're going to find your mom. Where is she?"

The girl didn't speak, she just pointed to the burning wreckage of the Wayne Financial building. 

**. . .**

"You know Master Wayne, one would think I would have gotten used to you running off and putting yourself into dangerous situations, and yet here we are."

Bruce could only shoot Alfred a flat look before going back to looking out the bay windows, arms crossed. They were standing in the private Wayne Wing of Gotham General, the hospital serving as overflow for Metropolis General across the bay. There were so many wounded and not enough space. Bruce would have preferred not to think of the morgue trucks lining the docks in Metropolis, but he didn't work that way. 

There were so many. 

He'd spent the last few hours helping move victims, using funds, and greasing the wheels of insurance to make sure people received care. The one thing Batman couldn't do that Bruce Wayne did better. It was another rainy night in Gotham, and it felt like they were an entire world away from the carnage.

"Considering your most recent…development," Alfred struggled for the right terminology before continuing, "I would have thought you would have been more careful."

The jaw of the Wayne heir clenched and shoulders tightened before he forced himself to relax. With so many things on his plate the last few months—Black Mask, the Calendar Man, the appearance of god-like aliens—his Soul Mark had been forcibly pushed to the background. He'd lived his entire life without a fully formed Mark, covering the blurry mess with flesh tone bandaids to keep away the press and stop any rumors. His plan had worked for years.

Then it fully appeared in the middle of the day at the end of a quarterly meeting. The sensation was similar to being burned, and it moved across the right side of his chest like fire. The pain nearly taking the air from his lungs. The words were then suddenly fully formed, no longer a smudge of misfortune. The black print stood out harshly against the agitated flesh of his flank. The handwriting was smooth, a mix of non-traditional cursive and print, the sentence was broken into two lines of text, slightly slanted to the right.

 _Not sure if you could tell,  
_ _but I'm not exactly a people person._

Alfred had been the appropriate level of ecstatic. Bruce had been…less so.

Bruce shook his head. He'd been trying not to think about it, what it could mean for whoever it was. The fate of those connected to the Batman was never kind.

"They're saying that he saved the city," Alfred offered. 

"He destroyed the city," Bruce growled. "He killed innocent people, women, and children."

There was an underlying tone in Bruce's voice that Alfred knew well, one that spoke of bubbling anger and frustration. It had been present for the past few years, and the shadow had only grown, the brutality of a man nearly unmade. 

"We've got work to do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things not seen in this chapter:  
> \- Zed building a crypto-box, lined in lead and aluminum to store the test computer.  
> \- Test 2-4 which were other ways Theo tortured herself for science and curiosity.  
> \- Theo eating an entire two large pizzas by herself at one in the morning  
> \- Zed getting an email from a mysterious potential client asking Babel to break into STAR Labs.  
> \- Zed trying to hack into IP-protected CCTV cameras in Metropolis when the news coverage runs out of video feeds.
> 
> Other Thoughts:  
> \- Jor-El believed that Clark would be a beacon of hope, to help humanity strive for something better. When Superman flew across the sky, he does do that, especially for Theo. The events of Man of Steel get the ball rolling for all of us. Maybe Lex is on to something with his Metahuman Thesis.
> 
> \- Theo shooting herself is incredibly unhealthy and a symptom of her PTSD. Someone help this girl, she is a danger. Once she sets her mind to something, that's it. Sounds familiar. 
> 
> \- Writing the small section of Bruce was weird, but it touches (lol lightly) on how he's been dealing (spoiler: he isn't) with his legible Mark now.


End file.
